Femme Fatale
by aero-breaking
Summary: "you're written in her book, you're number thirty-seven, have a look. she's going to smile to make you frown, what a clown. little boy, she's from the street. before you start you are already beat. she's going to play you for a fool, yes it's true." —Levimika. Jeansasha. Vampire AU.


**note one: **this has been sitting in my computer for months. months. and today i wanted to post something so i went back to my archives and thought, why the hell not? i should finish it. vampires are sexy, sexy things. and i wanted to bring this scenario in my head to life. this turned out wayyyy longer than i expected. like…triple of what i expected. uh, sorry?

**note two: **the inspiration for this came from various sources. femme fatale by emilie simon ft. kim keegan. kill bill by brown eyed girls. interview with the vampire by anne rice. gretchen lowell/archie sheridan series by chelsea cain. i just had a field day with this. not really, it was _so frustrating_. made me wanna shoot my foot. thrice. i hope you enjoy it. i don't own shingeki no kyojin or alone. unfortunately.

* * *

**FEMME FATALE  
**_aero-breaking_

* * *

"_here she comes,  
__you'd better watch your step,  
__she's going to break your heart in two,  
__it's true._

_it's not hard to realize,  
__just look into her false colored eyes,  
__she'll build you up to just put you down,  
__what a clown._

_you're written in her book,  
__you're number thirty-seven, have a look.  
__she's going to smile to make you frown,  
__what a clown._

_little boy, she's from the street.  
before you start you are already beat.  
she's going to play you for a fool,  
yes it's true.__"  
_—emilie simon ft. tim keegan, _femme fatale_

* * *

Mikasa watches the world pass by in a flurry of blues, grays, and greens. The world changes, shapes itself into something she had never once thought possible. There are no longer houses made of stone and mud, there are no longer castles bathed in gold on the inside, there are no longer beautiful gowns and royal balls.

Instead there are buildings that are so close to reaching the sky, there are gadgets she sometimes can't even use, there are short dresses, high heals, and places where people dance well into the morning.

But one thing remains unchanging.

People die, people are born, and it is a cycle that she watches happen over and over. To her, feelings and humans are not reliable. Time is as cruel as she is, it burns away memories and freezes her skin. She doesn't even remember what daylight looks like. Not that she is complaining, she is a creature of the night, and that is the world she has embraced. It was just an observation.

She is always looked at suspiciously when she stays at place for too long. Her face and body is unchanging, and everyone, everything moves with the passage of time. It is only her kind that are like lodged stones on the hourglass.

Sixty years have passed since she was last in Trost, if by any chance some of the people she used to know were still alive she'd say she was Mikasa Ackerman's granddaughter or she'd just look at them, until their confused faces made their wrinkles more pronounced, and they left her alone, then the subject would be dropped and she would live there for ten years and then move on to the next town. Like always. However, she doubted she'd come across anyone, what used to be a small rural town has become a medium sized city.

It is out of her routine, she's come to Trost forty years too early, but she had a debt to settle and this is where it had led her. Even with most of her humanity gone, she still doesn't like being in debt to anyone. Besides, it wasn't like she had anything better to do—the image of dead eyes comes to her, demanding even in death—and that woman had been pretty desperate.

At the moment, she is in a deserted alley, _how fitting_, she crudely thinks to herself. It is dark, the moon shining sinisterly above, there are huge clouds drifting through the sky. _It smells like rain_, she observes.

She closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the night that she has grown to love in a sick, twisted way. Then, her sensitive ears catch the faint steady _thump thump _of footsteps. She almost smiles, knowing that the night was still young and it had been such a long, _long _time since she had let herself indulge in the pleasure that feasting on a human brought on. Her dead heart beats furiously against her chest, heaving and soaring in ways that only joy of the hunt could satisfy.

The footsteps get louder as they draw nearer, she sees him under the moonlight before a cloud passes overhead and blocks it, _he's beautiful_, it is the only thought she can conjure in the small span of time it takes for him to walk to where she was standing.

Waiting, patiently.

And beautiful he was, tall, with light skin only her eyes could see in the night, and hair that blended into the night. A confident gait to his step and broad shouldered. She hears it, she smells it, she can almost even feel it, the pulse in his vein, the blood that flows through his cheeks and taints them with human color. Mikasa silently sends thanks to whatever god was in heaven, if there was any, for sending her such an alluring human, she had always favored beautiful men.

She takes a step out from the shadows, taking the boy by surprise, "Holy shit," he lets out, "You fucking scared me."

Mikasa stands in a way that she's sure he can't see her face clearly, "Sorry." She's glad her voice hadn't come out as needy as she felt, everything screamed at her, _take him, take him, he'll be everything those animals weren't, take him, _she bites the inside of her cheek trying to calm herself, she doesn't like tearing apart her meals, she likes to feed and leave them forever in their eternal beauty.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" He asks, regaining his wits.

This time Mikasa smiles seductively, and lets him see her face, his eyes widen and he takes a cautious step back. She knows what he sees, blood red eyes and fangs that he had only ever heard about it tales and stories. But she is standing before him, the creature he had always believed to be nothing more than folklore.

"Why child," she says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and takes a step toward him, "I was waiting for you."

* * *

The first drag of a cigarette is always the best. They way the nicotine filters into the lungs giving them a slight euphoria that otherwise would be impossible, there is no other feeling like it. It is relaxing and, for Levi, a comfort that he had tried giving up.

He holds his divorce papers in his hands, while he sits in the bar that he usually visits when shit hits the fan; and for him, it's every week. He's not entirely sure why he's there, it's not like there is desperation clawing at his heart, it's not like he is a hopeless lovesick fool who has lost his only string of sanity. He doesn't feel anything. This whole situation was expected, anticipated, Petra was in love with someone else, always had been. And he had never loved anything. There was affection but not love, there had been admiration but not understanding, their marriage had been nothing more than a pathetic attempt at finding comfort.

He sets his cigarette in the ashtray, and picks up a pen, there is no hesitation, there is no thoughts of _'Maybe we can work this out' _there is nothing but a signature and a bored sigh. Levi puts the papers back in the envelope Petra had given him and slips them into his suitcase. He doesn't want to dwell anymore.

"_The man in his early twenties that was found two mornings ago in a back alley in the center of Trost district is said to be named Alistair Rainsworth. Authorities say he had been dead for three days. The cause of death is still unknown, however the authorities affirm that they are close to solving the homicide. A statement was released this morning… "_

The news blazes through the TV screen that hangs over one of the counters. He narrows his eyes; he hadn't expected Erwin to release any details of the case. Not until they had further evidence anyway. He doesn't want to admit it, but so far every lead they have come up with a blank. They had investigated the boy thoroughly, interviewed his family and everyone that could know something, they had all been more than sure that the kid didn't have any rivalries, much less someone who wanted to kill him. The ME was still running an autopsy and it would take weeks for this whole mess to blow over.

He rubs his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts, and relax, even if the notion was almost impossible for him.

The brown-haired bartender he had come to know as Marco comes up to him, "Would you like anything to drink, sir?"

He momentarily debates with himself before throwing all caution to the wind, "Give me the strongest Vodka you have."

"Right away sir," the other man answers, already turning away.

Levi picks up his cigarette, continues taking long drags, and tries to discretely look around. Not a minute has passed when he spots the girl on the other side of the bar, sitting in the booths. He eyes her from the corner of his eye, wanting to see if she has her attention on him. Like she always does. She doesn't disappoint, she is openly staring.

He turns his head sideways to look at her and she looks straight at him. _Insolent brat, _he thinks but smirks back at her nonetheless.

The girl is at the bar every Wednesday with a group of loud, laughing and drunk kids surrounding her. She is a strange woman, always with a drink in hand and a bored expression on her face. She always sits to the side of the table, legs crossed, and ignoring everything. Even with all her companions Levi can't help but think that she is miserably alone.

Levi will admit that she is beautiful but does not allow himself to entertain any further thoughts. Mostly because she seems fickle and entirely too young. She whispers something into her one of her companion's ear and soon they are making their way out, a stupid smile on the unknown man's face. Before they are completely out of sight, however, she turns to look at him one last time, slightly tilts her head in a gesture of farewell, and turns away.

_Strange woman indeed._

* * *

Mikasa arrives home minutes before the sun peaks through the horizon, she's always had a thing with tempting her fate. It was the only thing that entertained her these days, she was an old creature, and while humans were amusing to toy with, she was usually bored. Her apartment is on the second floor with a room, a small kitchen, a living room, and two bathrooms; with few windows, just the way she likes it. She covers the windows with curtains that are too thick to let the light stream through.

There is a bathroom in her room, it has no windows and it's dark and the tub is big enough to let her lie down without having to bend her legs to fit. She had found some heavy black boards to cover the top with during one of her rare trips to the store, the surveillance had been mediocre at best.

She had ordered some handmade satin and silk blankets, the best money could buy, and cushions, it was almost as good as a coffin. Her coffin had been left behind in Shiganshina for these days traveling with a coffin, or anything bigger than a suitcase, was strange. She didn't need to arouse any suspicion if she could avoid it. Especially since she could only travel at night.

As she closes the door of the bathroom behind her, she thinks about recent events. She had found the boy, Eren, he was drunk in a bar and she'd been watching him ever since. He had grown to be a strange kid, always angry, but so terribly honest and pure hearted. _And beautiful_, her mind adds as an afterthought. Olive skin with forest green eyes, hair the color of dark chocolate; she really wanted to suck the life out of him. Sometimes she really cursed her preferences, especially at the moment. The good thing was that after so many years she could control her bloodlust.

She was supposed to keep him alive, at least until his twenty first birthday. Only seven more months to go. She had heard the news at the bar, the death of the Alastair boy was not a homicide but a meal. A vampire was in town, and by the looks of it, they didn't know the concept of discretion. It almost made her smack her lips in annoyance; she'd have to feed off of animals. She didn't like animal blood. It left a nasty after taste in her mouth, unlike human blood.

This was going to be a harder job that she had expected.

Her thoughts drift to the man that had been sitting at the bar, she doesn't know why, but he had been strangely fascinating to watch. And she's not really into men past their thirties, mostly because they were always more leveled headed. The thing with young boys was they believed they held the world in their hands, like they were the strongest, the smartest, that they could do anything. And it was so, _so _amusing and _satisfying _and delicious when their eyes turned to her in horror, realizing that _no_, they couldn't do everything, that they were done for, knowing that they were nothing more than mere mortals in the wake of her overwhelming power.

Sucking them dry of their lifeline was one of the greatest pleasures that came with being a ruthless, detached killer. It made her drunk and full and she was on a high that she had difficulty coming down from.

But that man at the bar, that man was something else entirely, he was short, yes, but the air about him screamed confidence, _meal_. Maybe that's what she was attracted to, not young and beautiful men, but confidence. Which made more sense, probably.

Whatever the case, the man was handsome, if she let herself admit it. Dark hair, black as midnight, her favorite time to hunt. He was dangerously alluring and briefly she wonder what it would be like taste his blood. What it would be like to feel him pushing back against her, trying to escape from her deadly embrace, and slowly, like running molasses, feel his arms grow weak and slide down her back. It was like he was seducing her when he sent her those sly smirks that spoke volumes. And she really wanted to do nothing more than let herself be dragged away by him.

She halts her thoughts, knowing them to not be normal. She was the seductress, not him, she was the one that was supposed to be sly. She had only ever desired one person like this before, and that had been painful, even for her, and not gone the way she would have liked.

Sometimes, she still dreams of him. With his blue eyes and blond hair, Alone was everything that she wasn't. Kind, _alive,_ and he had accepted her, something no human had ever done before, he had not minded that she wasn't alive, that she wasn't _human_.

She remembers his death too clearly, too vividly, as if it had only happened yesterday. Mikasa knows that it was his passing that turned her into the monster she was today, she knows that he would have looked at her with that disapproving gaze she had never wanted directed at her.

Alone was the only man she had ever loved, he was the only one she had held close to her dead heart even after all these years. No man could ever compare to him, not even all beautiful men her killer side lusted for.

But the man at the bar, she desired him with her conscious side, not the killer, not the seductress, but the woman, the one who had also desired Alone.

This revelation, she did not like at all.

* * *

Blood.

It smells so _good_.

His breath is ragged; he can't control himself or his urges. All he can think about is that red, delicious liquid that was his addiction and his captor. The hour is unimportant, but there is this girl walking through the empty streets and she's bleeding and she's tonight dinner.

He's not stupid, even through his drunken haze he knows he can't kill her in the middle of the street, even if they are empty, someone could see. He needs to find a way to get her to an isolated place, but his thirst is strong and it clouds his mind. His hands twitch, eager to wrap around her small frame and feed. He clenches and unclenches his fists, he can't think reasonably, so he does the only thing that makes some sense. He follows her. Follows her for two blocks and then to his fortune, and her misfortune, she enters a building. Her home, most likely, it makes him smile, she thinks she'll be safe, but she _won't _and it makes his heart jolt in excitement. He especially enjoyed feeding off of people who thought they were safe. Their terrified blood had a special and exquisite taste.

Taking the stairs two at a time he follows his instincts, almost tasting her blood on his tongue. He reaches a door on the third floor, he hears her rummaging for something inside, with panicked movements he somehow manages to open the door and without giving her a chance to scream he's on her. His hand covering her mouth and his teeth digging into her pulsing veins. She doesn't even struggle against him, she's already dying in his arms by the time she realizes what is going on. She whimpers and it gives him _such _a satisfaction.

Her heart stops beating in his ears but he drains her blood even after her death until there isn't a single drop left.

* * *

Levi is at the bar again, his work spread out in the counter before him, _this is getting to be a common occurrence_, he muses to himself. _Work even after work._

But he doesn't have a choice, the death of Alistair Rainsworth was the talk of the city, and they still hadn't gotten any closer to identifying his killer. Not only that, it still hadn't been announced through the news yet, but two more bodies had turned up. One girl killed in her apartment and another in a local park, both drained of their blood. Their necks had been torn apart and their dead eyes horrified, as if what had killed them was their greatest nightmare. The deaths were escalating, too fast, too quickly, Levi, and every other person in the department thought they had a serial killer on their hands. But there was nothing there, no clues, no fingerprints, it was almost as if it was the perfect homicide. _Did I miss something? Was there a clue I missed?_

He had been a petty thug once, but even then with the worst of the worst happening around him he had never come across this type of murder before. What type of sick human being drains their victims of their blood? He supposed that was where he should start, how did this killer drain the blood of the victims? He runs a hand through his hair, irritation clawing his mind, he would get to the bottom of it, he would. He wasn't the best detective in Trost for nothing.

He pulls out the cigarettes from his pocket, taking one and lighting it; inhaling and letting it calm his unusually frayed nerves.

Levi is so deep in thought he doesn't notice the girl until she's sitting right next to him. If he had been a lesser man he would have flinched in surprise, but as it stood, he only turned to her, his best poker face on.

She looks back at him with dark eyes that he has difficulty deciphering. He swallows, there was something in her gaze, something lurking beneath her apathetic eyes. He can't understand it, can't identify it, but it's there, he doesn't like it one bit.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to not let emotion slip through his carefully chosen words. He looked around, trying to see the men she usually came with, "You're alone?"

"Yes," she answers and her voice steady and, it may be his imagination, with a hit of breathy sultriness. Again, he swallows.

"And I suppose now you're pinning for company?" He turns back to his work, "You've come to the wrong person, I'm busy." He expects her to turn away, to go back to where she was sitting but instead she just waves the bartender over and pointedly ignores him. Hot anger rises to his cheeks (or maybe embarrassment, he doesn't know), of course there was a reason for her to be at the counter: alcohol. He feels as if she had outsmarted him, even though she hadn't done anything of the sort.

He bites his tongue and turns back to the reports he was looking over, trying his best to be discreet, he begins picking them up, and puts them in a neat pile before him. Civilians weren't supposed to see official police reports until after the case was solved.

When the bartender slid a whisky to her, he felt compelled to ask, "How old are you?"

She looked at him strangely, as if the question he had asked was one of the most amusing things she had ever heard. She took a sip from her drink and then answered, "You're busy."

He could feel his eye twitch, "Never mind that. Answer me."

"I don't know if I want to." She takes another sip. And turns her head to the television, who, once again, is blaring out the evening news.

He takes out his badge, and show's it to her, "Well you better start wanting."

The black haired girl eyes his badge and narrows her eyes, as if the whole situation was an utter waste of her time. But nonetheless, she pulls out her ID from the pocket of her pants. "See," she says, with a slight mocking tone, "Old enough to get hammered if I want to."

He takes it and inspects it, _Mikasa Ackerman. Twenty-three. _

Levi frowns, "You look no older than fifteen." He hands back the card, a strange feeling comes over him when he realizes she shares the same last name as him.

She says nothing and returns her attention to her drink, done with the conversation. Half an hour goes by with her ordering multiple drinks and him pretending to look over his papers. The girl is going through the liquor as if it was water, he looks at her from the corner of his eye, she looks as composed as she had been before she started drinking. Not even a slight tint of drowsiness to her dark eyes.

He takes his time to assess her; they had never been this close to each other before. She is enthralling. In all his thirty eight years he had never seen such a woman. With young features yet beauty that seduced without wanting to. Her hair was dark and shiny and he's sure that if he were to run his fingers through it, it would be like silk. Her neck is long and it beckons him to her, as if saying, _kiss me, you know you want to._

He's not sure what's running through his mind, he's never been one to spend time glorifying a woman's beauty. He appreciated it, yes, but not glorified it.

She smells of blood red roses and pine. An almost wild scent, it makes him uncomfortable. He tries to focus on his papers but the words blur together creating stains of black and white. _Get a hold of yourself_, he chides himself.

"MI~KA~SA~" A giddy voice breaks through his thoughts.

He sees a blur of brown and white and suddenly there is a girl clinging to Mikasa, locking her in a bear hug. He is momentarily stupefied for not having been able to see her clearly until she was in front of him, he had always had outstanding reflexes. The girl is disturbingly beautiful, not the same as Mikasa, but on par in a different sense. It makes his stomach clench, what is _wrong _with him?

"I haven't seen you in _decades_, where have you been?"

He sees how Mikasa's eyes soften, if only just slightly, "Sasha, it's been a while, sorry."

The girl, Sasha, waves her hand in dismissal, "Don't worry about it. We can't always stick together. But where have you been?"

For a moment Levi wonders if they have forgotten about him, he's sitting right next to them, but he supposes that they don't really care if he's there or not.

"Shiganshina." Mikasa answers, turning in her seat to face the girl.

"Really? Ah, Shiganshina has the best cakes," A look of pure happiness passes Sasha's face, and for a moment it looks like she's in a world of her own but then the look is completely wiped off her face, "The others are here."

He sees a look of pure annoyance flash across Mikasa's face, and again, he is stupefied, for he had never seen her displaying so much in emotion on her face. Before he can make a fool of himself his cell phone rings and he fishes it out of his pocket.

"Ackerman speaking." He greets.

"_Another body has turned up_." It's Erwin, and he doesn't sound happy at all.

Levi can feel the tension rising up in his body, "Where?"

"_Behind the public library_," he begins putting his stack of reports into his suitcase, keys of his car in hand. "_We need you here._"

"Right." He says and hangs up.

He walks out of the bar, not noticing the two pairs of eyes that follow him out.

* * *

Mikasa hasn't seen Sasha for nearly fifty years, a long time for most people, but not for them. They fall back into comfortable conversation in a matter of minutes, as if they had only parted yesterday.

Sasha was Mikasa's doing, nearly two hundred years after her own turning. She had met Sasha in the streets, a sixteen year-old girl who had been brutally beaten multiple times for stealing food. The truth was, Mikasa had planned to feed off her, planning on putting her out of her misery. But the girl was smarter than she looked, on their fourth meeting Sasha had known that Mikasa wasn't human.

_What are you?_ She had asked.

In a split second she had her pressed against the wall, fangs digging into her neck; she could hear the beating of the girl's heart, like drums in a parade, and it was strange, because the drumming wouldn't stop. Wouldn't slow. As the minutes wore on the drumming was insistent, it was unrelenting. And that's when Mikasa realized that the girl's will to live was strong, she was fighting death and eternal peace.

It had been a mistake to let go, because the girl wasn't dead; Mikasa hadn't know what came over her, but she had pressed her wrist to her lips and given the girl her blood. Sasha's turning had been like most turnings, with fevers, vomiting, weakness that lasted for three weeks; her body ridding itself of all human liquids and restrictions. For Sasha, it had taken a long time to die; she slaughtered so many men in those weeks, her thirst unsatisfiable.

"Is it you?" Sasha asks, as they make their way down the dark, almost empty streets of Trost.

Mikasa turns to look at her, she knows what her companion is talking about. "I only killed once, and I made sure to get rid of the body." She had, he was decomposing at the bottom of a river, rocks holding his body down.

"None after that?"

"No."

"Damn." It is one of those rare times where Sasha is serious, where she is trying to come up with answers. "I was hoping it was you."

"Thanks." Mikasa lets out, voice dead, but Sasha had been with Mikasa long enough to know that there was a hint of sarcasm lacing her words.

"No." Sasha begins, "It's just that Trost has been peaceful for thirty years now, but then you appear, and all these bodies start turning up."

"It's not me. I've been feeding off animals in the forest. It's not like I have a choice."

"I see..." Sasha trails off, going back to her thoughts.

"It's probably a newborn. Or something else."

"Probably. I'd better investigate." She let out a long sigh, "I don't want this getting worse."

"Does it bother you so much?"

Sasha stops walking and Mikasa stops a few steps away from her as well, "I just don't want to leave this city. I...have been living peacefully here, and the people are also nice." She stops and looks at Mikasa straight in the eyes, "Is it wrong for me to be so attached?"

Mikasa only shrugs, "I wouldn't know. Just be careful. Thirty years is a long time to stay in one place. And always remember that you are linked to me."

A comfortable, thoughtful silence passes over them, before Sasha claps her hands in front of her, "Okay!" She says, returning to her chipper self.

They begin walking again, this time taking the time to catch up, and all thoughts of the bodies leave their minds.

"So why are you following that kid around anyway?" She questions. Mikasa doesn't even want to know how she knows about Eren. Sasha has always had her way with things.

"His mother helped me a few years back. She saved me from some hunters and she was pregnant at the time, the kid is a half-breed and she knew that they would kill him. So she asked me to take care of him."

"He doesn't seem like a half-breed."

"He blends in well with the human population. It seems he didn't inherit any of his father's genes." Mikasa states, she looks at her watch, she'd spend more time with Sasha than she originally intended. It was half an hour until sunrise. "Where are you staying?"

Sasha looks at her with a sheepish sort of smile. "Nowhere in particular. I kindda just hang around."

Mikasa abruptly stops walking. Her usually emotionless eyes flashing with rage. "What do you mean 'nowhere in particular'? I don't know how many times I've told you to have a good sleeping place."

"I know! I know!" The other jumps repeatedly, as if she was a child being reprimanded by her parent, "Please don't be mad. I had a place, but then…there were some—some circumstances and I had to leave."

Mikasa sighs, she often wondered why it was Sasha was so careless with herself. She had taught the girl everything she knew, as a maker should. Sometimes she thought Sasha intentionally did these things. Maybe after living so long she was finally getting bored with this never-ending life. "What about the coven?"

"Uh…" Sasha begins, hesitant, "I don't want to go there."

"Why not? You don't have anywhere else to go."

"Mikasa, you know I hate the coven. And that's entirely your fault." The brown-haired girl raises her nose in the air, making Mikasa strangely nostalgic. Sasha was her best friend, the only being besides Alone that had ever stuck with her, despite her cold and cruel personality. And Sasha was right. The reason Sasha hated covens was because Mikasa had never, when they had been traveling together, allowed Sasha anywhere near the covens. She had always kept the girl safe by herself, she didn't need all those holier-than-thou leeches trying to fill the girl with their poison. They were really boring creatures, the inhabitants of the covens. Always trying to get every vampire under the veil of the night under their command and get them to abide by their rules.

Mikasa lets out a long sigh, even though she didn't even need the air, "Fine. Stay with me. That was your intention from the start anyway."

"Master, you are ever so kind." Sasha smiles an easy smile, deceiver that she was, "I knew you would understand."

"Don't call me that. You know I hate it." They begin walking again, Mikasa leading the way to her apartment. Sasha followed behind, a bounce in her step. When they finally reached the establishment, Sasha let out a low whistle, "How do you even afford places like this?"

"Men are easy to persuade."

"I wish I had your charms." Sasha mumbles under her breath.

"I taught you everything I know."

"It's just that I don't want—I just—"

"It's okay, Sasha." They make their way around the building, to the stairs on the back, and when they reach Mikasa's apartment, the dark gets just a tiny bit lighter and their hearts pound in their chests. Hurriedly they make their way into the place, walking straight into the bathroom in Mikasa's room.

The older of the two closes the door behind her, it's a little easier to relax now, the dark swallowing them up.

"Wow," Sasha breathes when she her eyes adjust and she sees the comfortable sleeping arrangements Mikasa has made for herself. "This looks great."

"Get in."

Sasha does, she lays down on her back, spreading her legs open to give Mikasa a place to comfortably settle in. Mikasa grabs one the heavy boards and a she lays down on top of Sasha she covers them up.

It is strange, but not unwelcome, to be sleeping with another being after such a long time. It's not warm, as they are too dead to produce any body heat and they haven't fed on any human blood for days, years in Sasha's case, but just touching Sasha brings a small amount of peace to Mikasa.

She wraps her arms around her and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"I've missed you." Sasha says, returning her embrace.

"I know."

Mikasa hadn't slept so calmly in the last five decades.

* * *

Levi isn't sure where this unnatural…attraction is coming from. It unnerves him. She is beautiful and he can't seem to keep her out of his head. Especially after coming into such close contact with her last week. She has invaded his thoughts and it _unnerves _him. He cannot express how much he detests her presence in the private confinements of his mind. It is unreasonable, it is laughable, it is making him act like a lovesick teenager. He doesn't understand, when he had first seen he hadn't thought much of her, she was beautiful, yes, but he hadn't further explored the prospect of that beauty. And suddenly she is so close he can smell her and he sees the endless pits of black that her eyes are and he is _attracted_. He is captivated by her.

And the brown-haired girl, she was an unexpected factor to the equation. Of course, he wasn't as enraptured by her, but by the _gods _was she beautiful. He had never seen such attractive women in his life.

He sighs and pulls out a cigarette. He orders a strong drink, just to haze his emotions, and to try not let these stupid thoughts consume him. There are other, more important, things that need his attention. Like the rising number of dead bodies. This is what he should be focusing on, _not _the undeniable beauty of a young girls who he has barely even spoken to.

Time slowly drags on and the bar slowly empties itself. The bar wasn't really a big attraction, it was usually a lonely place and the main customers were people like himself. So it was really strange when those kids started coming here. Kids no older than twenty-five, they came here every Wednesday and filled the peaceful place with loud, obnoxious laughter and arguments. He refused to leave. He wasn't about admit defeat to a bunch of children.

He's on his third smoke of the night when he feels eyes roaming the expanse of his back. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Levi's muscles tense, because the gaze feels dangerous and he knows _exactly _who it is. Her gaze shouldn't feel like this, no gaze should ever feel like this, like she was going to devour him.

He turns around slowly and his breath catches in his throat when he finds her directly behind him. Her red lips curve into a small smile and she speaks, "I'm pinning for company. You're not busy." Her pale skin makes her dark, dark eyes shine like black pearls. He sees a tint of mischievousness behind her gaze, and something else, something he didn't want to identify.

Her voice makes him shiver, "And you're not alone." He shifts his gaze to the people she had left behind at the table.

"I'm not." She confirms. "But that hardly matters."

"You are strange, Mikasa Ackerman."

"But you want me anyway."

He swallows, slightly taken off guard, he didn't think he was being that obvious, "So what do you suggest I do?"

She looks up, as if thinking really hard, her long neck beckons him and he can barely keep from touch her, "I think you should let yourself want me."

"I don't have relationships with younger girls."

This time Mikasa smiles and her pearly whites show, "I can change your mind."

There was just something really _off _about this girl. They way she spoke, the way she looked at him, everything she did made him slightly anxious. His phone rings.

He pays it no mind and tries to stare the girl down. In the end, he turns his eyes away first. "Go home."

Levi picks up his things and brushes past her, he tries to not let her predatory gaze bother him.

* * *

Mikasa sits outside the bar, slightly enjoying the way the detective pulls hastily out of the parking lot, really, men were so easily distraught. She likes him. She did and she could no longer deny her attraction to him. She would make sure to kill him slowly. Savor every drop of blood and she'd do it by getting close to him. Intimately. She'd crush all reasonable attraction and let the killer inside her rip him to pieces. He was not as handsome as the younger ones anyway. There was no beauty she wished to preserve.

But to do it, she'd have to kill another human. She needed the warm blood to heat up her body temperature. Humans weren't as cold as she was. Not tonight, however, because Eren was with her. No matter, she'd do it tomorrow. And besides, she would have to be extremely careful, with that newborn running around and the police investigating constantly she didn't want to be hasty.

"Excuse me," A voice interrupts her thoughts and she turns so fast she forgets herself, she grabs him by the neck and squeezes hard. She hadn't heard him come up behind her.

Scared blue eyes stare back at her and she freezes. Freezes because his eyes are so familiar, so _alive_. The last time she had seen such blue eyes they were shutting close forever and she was trying so desperately to stop the bleeding.

"Pleas-lease don't-t," He chokes out and Mikasa pulls back her hand as if she had been sprayed with holy water. The boy trembles as he regains his breath and Mikasa looks at him. Really _looks_.

He is tall, his blond hair passing his shoulders, and his skin light. It's too much. He looks exactly like the person she wants to forget. She trembles and she feels disgustingly human. So many emotions she had once felt hitting her like a tidal wave. Flashes of stolen kisses, full moons, and broken bones fill her vision. Mikasa can't control herself. She can't stop her dead heart from beating so quickly and so painfully.

When the boy gains his breath he apologizes, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come up behind you like that." There are still traces of fear behind his sky blue eyes but it completely dissipates when he notices her state. "Are you okay?"

He reaches his hand out and touches her elbow, it scorches her skin. Mikasa pulls back, flinching away from him. "I'm fine." She says, voice regaining its cold edge.

The dark haired vampire forces her body to stop reacting like a human. She reminds herself of what she is and _Alone is dead_. When her heart has stopped beating furiously she shakes her head, and falls back into the cold vampire she is.

"I'm sorry," She begins, voice like velvet, "You scared me, is all."

The boy looks doubtful, but lets it go, "Sorry about that."

"It's fine." Mikasa clenches her fists and gives him an easy smile, "Was there something you needed?"

"Yes," the youth begins, remembering his original intent, "I'm looking for Eren, do you know him?"

Mikasa can't focus much, she feels as she had been thrust into the past and _he _is speaking to her again. "Yeah," She says with confidence she had long ago perfected at faking, "He's right inside. And you are?" She has to know. If she doesn't she will go into a frenzy and kill without thinking of the consequences.

"My name is Armin Arlert. I'm his roommate," The boy answers, a hesitant smile overtaking his lips, "I'm not much of the party type so I never come with him to these types of outings."

Mikasa swallows thickly, "I understand."

"What's your name?"

"Mikasa." She answers, "Mikasa Ackerman."

And for a split second she lets herself think he's Alone. He looks just like him, even the way he talks and his expressions, its eerie and she knows she shouldn't affect her as much as she is letting it. But it does and she _detests _it. As a vampire and as a dead human, she doesn't need air, but she feels as though she's about to die from suffocation, "I have to go."

She steps away from him, barely keeping from running as fast as she can; he makes her feel strangely childish. Mikasa's dead heart beats.

_Shut up. Just shut up._

When she's sure she's out of his sight she runs, runs as fast as her legs can carry her, his image burns in the back of her eyelids. Memories she had long ago suppressed emerge from the abyss that is her empty heart and she can't seem to find her ground.

Then, suddenly, as if a lightning bolt had struck her, an onslaught of foreign feelings assaulted her mind, her heart, and her body. It almost makes her miss a step and she stumbles, she shoots her hand out, reaching for anything that can hold her up. She's in a part of the city she can't immediately recognize but that hardly matters, she leans against the first tree that comes within her reach. The pain comes in waves, it leaves her momentarily stupefied. What the hell was going on?

_And always remember that you are linked to me._

Sasha.

* * *

Sasha shifts nervously on her feet. Well, what she feels isn't really nervousness or at least, according to the rule book of vampires. Mikasa had once explained that being dead meant she didn't have any emotions to feel. All the things she thought she felt were mere niceties. It was reflex.

Sasha thought differently. Vampires, if they allowed themselves, could feel. They could and Mikasa knew it. But her maker was always trying to push human emotions into the darkest pits of her heart. Honestly, she couldn't relate. Primarily because she had never loved anyone as much as Mikasa had loved Alone. At least, not until now.

The door she had been watching closely for the past half hour opens to reveal a very tired looking dirty blonde. Her heart leaps to her throat and she can't will her feet to hardly matters however, as he has already picked up her scent. It's really disheartening how his shoulders tense and his face turns hard. No use hiding now.

She tries her best to not seem threatening, of course he still takes a defensive stance. "Jean." She begins and she is immediately cut off.

"Don't." He turns away, still tense and still ready to pounce if need be. He begins making his way down the street, Sasha follows closely behind.

"It's a newborn. I swear." She tries to explain. "It wasn't me. I promise."

"That's hard to believe when your scent is bathed with human blood." He sniffs the air, and narrows his eyes, "And another leech's scent." He turns around to look at her so quickly she almost runs into him. "Were you _with _someone?"

Sasha patience slowly draws to end. Being accused of infidelity always had a negative effect on her, _especially _since the unfaithful one was him. An ugly growl leaves her throat. "What are you implying?"

"Exactly what it fucking sounds like. It's typical of you vampires anyway, you can't stay with just one person."

Something very primitive rises in the pit of her stomach, something she knows could send them into a very destructive brawl, so she takes a step back. And Mikasa's teachings take over.

Her entire demeanor changes, she swallows back all her anger and straightens her shoulders, she lifts her head and looks at Jean straight in the eyes, she smiles sweetly and cruelly. "I wouldn't go there if I were you."

Jean is taken slightly aback, she can tell. Her usually molten gold eyes flash a dangerous red. She had never showed this part of her to him, because she always wanted to remain beautiful in his eyes. When she had first met him, he had been so enchanted with her innocent beauty that she didn't want him to see her other self.

The part that was fully capable of controlling her emotions and the one that was capable of ripping a man to pieces, the part that was the vampire and not the naive village girl.

Sasha had lived for a long time; this werewolf _child _would not see her vulnerable. She, like him, had too much pride for that.

He doesn't take the hint and fakes confidence. "Answer the question."

She smirks, "Okay. I was with someone. Jean," She says innocently, getting closer, she slides a finger down chest, "you must understand. I've lived a long, long time. There are certain," Sasha presses her body to his, "_standards_ you will never be able to reach. I'm very hard to please." She kisses his neck, slowly trailing down pecks and grazing her sharp fangs against his skin. She gives him a final firm kiss on his pulsing vein, it is erratic with fear, and pulls away. "You're too young to understand."

Jean's breath catches in his throat, "Are you saying I was just a casual fuck?"

"You said so yourself Jean, vampires can't stay with just one lover. Unlike you faithful creatures."

He looks at her with such hurt it almost makes her want to apologize. But she wouldn't do this, his anger was unnecessary and without any solid basis. She was a casual fuck for him too. And she had stupidly fallen in love with him. He had a _mate_. Sasha had seen them countless of times together; werewolves mated for _life_. She had been an escape from his responsibilities and she did not need him imposing his self-righteousness on to her.

She was a cruel creature. Nothing would ever change that, she had _accepted _that. She knew the killings weren't bothering him, he didn't have a problem with that, it was the fact that he was to be Alpha in a few weeks and he still had a vampire lover following him around. His pack mattered to him more than she ever would, and that stung. It stung and she wanted to wound him. She couldn't hurt him physically, that would start a war, but she could take all those teachings Mikasa had taught her and break him. It wouldn't be hard, werewolf Alphas were simple. Very territorial.

"Let's never see each other again." She says, still smiling.

He growls and kisses her roughly. Sasha can feel his frantic heartbeat. "You don't get to decide," He murmurs between painful kisses. She indulges him. And pretty soon she finds herself in a room, with no knowledge on how she arrived there, Jean's hands are on her back, on her hips, on her legs and his lips leave trails of scorching heat in their wake.

Sasha feels as though everything is over too quickly. He lets out a satisfied sigh and pulls her to him. But she pushes him away and gets dressed.

"Will you stay in my basement again?" He asks.

"No."

"Are you going back to your vampire lover?" He bitterly lets out.

"Yes."

"When is the next time I will see you?"

She finishes gathering her hair into its usual style and turns to look at him. "Sorry," she begins not sounding apologetic at all, "but I'm leaving town."

This makes him sit up in bed, his eyes flashing with anger, "Why?"

"Why else? I've decided to start traveling with my maker again. He's always spoiling me."

"When?"

"Sometime soon."

"Stay with me."

"It was fun while it lasted."

"_Stay with me_."

She wants to, she really does. "I don't fuck with werewolf Alphas, too much responsibility, I'm not one for responsibility." She makes her way to the door, "Besides, like I said, there are standards you will never reach. Tonight was a proof of that."

She turns away slow enough to not seem like she's running away and fast enough to not give him a chance to speak. She leaves him there and doesn't look back. Once she's outside she looks at her watch and realizes she still has two hours before sunrise; she heads to the red light district.

Once there she has no problem lining up suitors and she takes the first one that comes within her reach. She coaxes him into an alley and, for the first time in nearly twenty years, digs her fangs into a human prey. She squeezes too hard and the mans back breaks under her fingers; she has no problem holding him up and his whimpers are like a sweet melody to her ears. The beating of his heart comes to an abrupt end; Sasha doesn't let go, instead she bites harder and when there is no more blood she rips her fangs away, the skin on his neck tearing and exposing his throat. She feels trails of blood sliding down her chin, with her hands she wipes it up, licking her fingers until there is no more. Her cold body turns luxuriously warm, warmth that made her eyes hazy with bloodlust. But she can't.

She makes her way to Mikasa's apartment and when she arrives Mikasa is waiting for her. She takes in Sasha's bloodied appearance and the pink tint that colors her cheeks, human blood running through her system. Sasha can't meet her eyes but Mikasa had never been one to reprimand instinct.

Her maker touches her cheek, and wipes away tears she didn't know she was shedding, "Even after four hundred years you cry like a child."

"I'm sorry."

"And even after four hundred years it seems I'm still immensely sensitive to your emotions."

"I'm sorry."

Mikasa pulls her into an embrace. "Don't apologize you stupid girl."

"He's a werewolf."

"And he was a human."

"_I killed_. I said I would never kill again."

"I will never hold it against you." And Sasha knew Mikasa meant that, because her maker had always spoiled her rotten. She had protected her and taught her and dealt with each of her episodes. Sometimes Sasha wonders why, was it guilt? Why did Mikasa constantly put up with her?

"Sasha," Mikasa begins, taking her face in her hands, and smiling sincerely, a smile Sasha hasn't seen since Alone's death, "Lets wreck come havoc in this city."

The brown haired girl smiles brightly through her tears, "Just like old times."

* * *

The distraught that meeting Armin had brought on had still not worn off. So Mikasa resorted to the only thing that could calm her down: hunting. Yet, even after feeding on two humans she couldn't bring herself to forget his frightened eyes. Her cheeks were very warm, very pink, she looked like a drunk human, which really wasn't far off the mark. Human blood was always so intoxicating.

Sasha's emotions had dimmed and turned into a dull ache, it didn't make the dark haired vampire any less concerned. Her charge had always been more humane than any vampire she had ever met. It made her very possessive and protective of her, because even if the love of her life had died and even if she was the most despised vampire around Sasha had never stopped thinking of her as her best friend. She had never turned her back on Mikasa.

Sasha is on her third kill of the night and she shows no sign of stopping. The werewolf child had really done a number on her and Mikasa makes a mental note to pay him a visit sometime. For now she decides to just let Sasha play pretend, she tells her, "I know you're thirsty but you need to control yourself."

"Sorry," Sasha murmurs wiping away some blood from her lips, "It's just that human blood is so _good _and its been such a _long _time. I can't believe I tried giving this up."

"It's enough for today, we should be going."

They make their way out of Trost's red light district, none of the people they had killed would be missed. They were all petty thugs and male prostitutes. High risk targets, no one would think much about it.

It was when they were making their way down the busy, dirty streets that Mikasa felt something in her stomach churn. A scent that she recognized and desired filled her nostrils. The detective. Her mouth watered.

"Sasha, go ahead of me." They girl turned to look at her, a sly smile overtaking her lips.

"Another one Mikasa?"

"No. I just want to startle this one a bit. Maybe help him in his investigation."

Sasha throws her head back and laughs, "You're so cruel." The brown haired girl leaves without waiting for a reply, soon she disappears into the throngs of people and Mikasa's attention turns to locating that delicious smelling detective.

She finds him standing in front of a whorehouse, and she can't help teasing him, "I thought you weren't into young women."

His shoulders flinch, very slightly, if she hadn't been the detail oriented vampire that she was, she would have missed it. He turns to look at her, his eyes flashing, "What the _fuck _are you doing here?"

She looks at the flickering lights placed above the entrance, "I work here."

"_What?_"

"If you buy me a drink, I could get you a discount. Maybe even a free blowjob."

He's close to choking on his saliva, "I am here on an _investigation_ not for that disgusting shit you're suggesting."

"So you didn't come to spend the night with me?"

For an old man, he is very amusing, Mikasa really can practically feel his blood pumping erratically. She smiles.

A silence falls on them, with only the chatter of other people ringing in both their ears, then he swallows thickly and asks, "Do you really work here?"

"No."

He almost seems relieved. "I didn't think so."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No. Now leave. Or I will arrest you for the obstruction of justice."

Mikasa will enjoy toying with him. "But I have useful information."

He snaps her gaze to hers, "What are you talking about?"

"On those bodies that keep turning up with their throats ripped open."

This catches his attention, he grips her arm tightly, and drags her to a secluded area, "How do you know about that?"

"I know you think it's all under wraps, Mr. Detective, but word travels fast in the underground. Faster than it takes for you to sweep everything under the rug."

"Who are you?" His fingers curl tighter around her arm, he will leave bruises, but Mikasa doesn't even flinch. She can barely feel it anyway.

"Just a very concerned citizen."

He doesn't believe her one bit. And he has every reason to be suspicious. But not for the reason's he's thinking about. She wants to tell him he should be more concerned with his own neck than the necks of others. But that would be no fun. She wanted to make sure she tore him apart completely. Emotionally, psychologically, and physically.

That would take time.

"Do you think I was born yesterday?"

"Do you think _I _was born yesterday?" She throws back.

"You're an insolent brat and I should arrest you. You're wasting my time."

"If I," She begins, an almost pleading tone overtaking her speech, "prove to you that I'm serious, will you listen to what I have to say?"

He eyes her warily, he wants to refuse, she can see it in his eyes, but he also wants to hear what she has to say. "Fine. You have sixty seconds to convince me."

"At first, the killer was only targeting people he found on the streets, random attacks. However, to throw off the police, he's begun targeting high risk targets, such as gang members and prostitutes, it's a complete change on victimology and you'll think he's devolving as a serial. But this is only because he's actually a hired hit man, and he's targeting a government official. He's going to make it look like he was a victim of misfortune. "

She's making it all up, of course. And killing a government official wouldn't be a problem, she needed to get close to the investigation and earn his confidence, this would be the easiest way. Even though he's looking at her like she's grown two heads, he's already tangled in her trap, "You expect me to believe that?" He deadpans.

"Of course I don't." She says, "You haven't found any prostitutes yet, but you will. And when you do, you will realize that I am right."

He doesn't say one more word, doesn't even look at her, as he turns and walks away. Before he's out of earshot though she shouts, "You know where to find me! I can help you!"

He disappears into the crowd and she feels a destructive smile overtaking her lips. She'd make sure he found the prostitutes Sasha and her had fed on today. And when he did he would find her and she would lead him along and then, when the moment was right and she had his full trust, she would kill him without mercy.

* * *

**note three: **okay, this got out of hand. like, i wasn't really planning for this oneshot to be this long. i'm gonna divide it. anyway, alone is a character from saint seiya: the lost canvas and i think he looks _just _like armin. (before the whole turning evil thing) so, since i love him to pieces i thought it would be a great addition to this story.

**note four: **i'm working on my other story too, okay? it's just that my motivation never goes in a straight line. it's always jumping from place to place. the next part i post for this should be the final part, so look forward to it.

**please review and favorite. thank you for reading.**


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